


A Promise Made is a Promise Kept

by MintHearted



Series: A Heart in the Snow [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Dimidue, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Original Character(s), hints of romance, spoilers for Verdant Wind route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:29:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21914473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintHearted/pseuds/MintHearted
Summary: Instead of being left to die at Gronder Field Dedue had brought Dimitri to safety in the form of a small community right on the boarder of Duscur and Faerghus. While recovering and with his path unclear, Dimitri is left to think about the promises he has broken and if there's a way he can amend his mistakes.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Dedue Molinaro, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro
Series: A Heart in the Snow [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578412
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38





	A Promise Made is a Promise Kept

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This was an idea I had for months after playing Verdant Wind, and I finally got down to writing it. It's not as perfect as I'd like it to be but I do plan on maybe writing more pieces to go along side it if people are interested! I hope you enjoy this monster that got out of my hands!

The last time Dimitri had set foot on these grounds had been in a time of tragedy. Soil was scorched and flames licked up anything dry enough it could catch in its grip. Screams accompanied the sounds of blades clashing and magic being cast from all sides. Blood coated his skin and clothes, and no matter how many times he closed his eyes he couldn’t wake up from such a nightmare.

Even today he still dreams about it. He can still see it despite the expanse of white covering the ground in cold flakes. One day, he had told himself, he would return here. He would arrive as a king offering refuge and plans to rebuild — to reforge the bond that was broken by his countrymen. Duscur would get back their freedom and their lands. Or, that’s what he had hoped. What he had promised Dedue.

Now, he wasn’t so sure what the reality would hold. Standing here now, leaning against the small shack Dedue had situated them in with his boots buried in the snow he couldn’t help but feel useless. He felt empty.

Prince Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd was supposed to have passed on that gruesome day at Gronder Field. Weapons were to end his life as they protruded savagely through his back. He was to die in a pool of his own blood and drowning in the cries of the ghosts that haunted him. Long ago he had made peace with the idea that he wouldn’t survive. The prince shouldn’t have survived. But the Goddess never did favor him, now did she?

She had let the Tragedy of Duscur happen allowing hundreds of lives to be lost, and that number was still rising. Then, with some sick twist of cruel fate Edelgard held some part in it. He wasn’t sure how deep her connections were, but there was no denying in his mind that it was related. To top it off he was under false imprisonment at the accusation of killing his uncle Rufus, and because of it he thought Dedue to be dead for five years.

So many times the world has tried to pull him apart, but even then it hadn’t been enough. It never was. After all that he’s done and all that was dealt to him he was not allowed even the release of death.

A breath escapes him that leaves his lungs and ribs aching. It had only been a few months since Dedue had dragged his heavy and unconscious body to the mountain covered boarder between Duscur and Faerghus. Yet, time seemed to not exist around him. It moved in choppy waves and blurs causing the sun to set almost as instantly as it arrived. One week could’ve been a day to him if he cared to notice.

Today wasn’t so different, but today he also dragged himself outside. It was the most alert he had felt in days especially after the news of Edelgard’s defeat. Dedue had brought him the notice himself after advancing on Enbarr on his own. Dimitri remembers the night before his departure all to vividly and it sits sourly in his stomach as he shakes off the impending headache that comes with it. He refuses to think about that right now and the emotions that threaten to rise from the memory.

He rests his head against the support beam that holds up the rickety overhang to the small cabin they’ve been holed up in. Boots sink further into the plush snow as he sits heavily on the only step separating the front door from the ground. His single eye tiredly scans around the small community that Dedue had brought them into.

It was a stark contrast from the horrific sight he had seen as a child. Instead of heat radiating from buildings and crops being trampled underfoot there was a chill and the sound of people tending to their daily chores. There weren’t many people compared to the villages he’d seen when he was young, but there was enough to build up a small life for themselves outside of the burning eyes of Faerghus. That much was known with every cautious glance that had been tossed his way since his arrival. He was trusted less than the manure that helped tend their farms and the wheat they fed their livestock.

He couldn’t blame them. In fact he agreed with them.

In his eyes he was nothing more than a monster. No better than those that had ravaged their villages and killed their people ten years ago. So he accepted their disdain so easily and kept mostly to himself even after his wounds healed enough for him to attempt walking around again. Their feelings were justified after all. Who would ever treat a man such as he, a man of Faerghus and their prince no less, with any warmth and open arms? Those who did were few and far between leaving him to wonder what he did to deserve their kindness. He didn’t even deserve Dedue’s.

The thought of the aforementioned man has him scanning the small cluster of homes in hopes of spotting him. Once Dimitri had been coherent enough, Dedue told him he’s been pitching in to contribute for their help and hospitality. He’d do things from helping the elder of the town to cook his evening meals to making sure their crops were thriving despite the frigid weather.

At times, Dimitri would even find Dedue smiling. When in Faerghus it was a thing of longing. A silent sorrow held in emerald eyes despite the tightness of his lips and the rare occasion of upturned corners. No one else ever saw it, but Dimitri always had. That too was different here.

In this small community there was peace in his expressions. Maybe even a sense of relief whenever he’d come home for the day and see that Dimitri was still safely tucked away on the couch or in the bedroom. He’d see it in the warm laughter that he’d let escape him more often then when they were at the academy. He looked happier, and it always let the prince’s heart do flips in his chest and allowed the butterflies to flutter helplessly in his stomach. So long he had hoped to bring such joy to Dedue, and maybe it wasn’t perfect but it was better for the man.

So long outcasted in Fódlan for his heritage and where he was born, he was welcomed into this little village as if he’d always lived here. How Dimitri longed to have given such a gift to Dedue sooner. To rebuild the fractured bridge between their homelands and make peace. It’s a reality he now cannot achieve as Faerghus once again thinks of him as dead, and his body too weak to make such journeys again just yet. Even so, with Claude winning over what was once the Empire and Kingdom would they even need room for a king? Could he even take up such a position if they did? Would he ever even accept that for himself?

A deep breath courses through his heavy lungs as he shakes away that next set of thoughts. In the end it did not matter. Claude was unifying Fódlan and maybe, just maybe, he was the true ruler that they needed. They didn’t a king who still saw the dead at every turn and had blood on his hands no matter how many times he scrubbed them clean. Dedue always told him he never saw it caked into the creases of his palms, so why did he always feel it gluing his skin together?

Now a shiver begins to run deep in his bones as the wind brushes passed him. It carries the blond strands of his hair across his face, and that would’ve obscured his vision further if he hadn’t already closed his eye. He’s not even sure how long he sits there letting the cold chill his limbs and bite at his nose, but eventually he feels something warm drape across his shoulders.

It startles him, causing his eye to flutter open in a panic. His body immediately jolts in an attempt to get himself into a defensive position. _He can’t die here. He has to have her head first._

But as soon as he’s up from his seat with his body screaming in protest, the weathered features of the town’s healer stares back at him with her own shock and concern. Wrinkles decorate her tanned face with an air that Dimitri could only ever describe as wisdom framed by silver locks that are pulled back into a haphazard bun. Her irises are brown but hold the sweetness of chocolate and the gentleness of a spring breeze. She stands at a mere five feet with her slightly hunched back. Her frail hands twitch as they both watch the grass green, woolen blanket drift down into the snow.

“N-Naya…” He spits out almost instantly. Muscles scream and ribs throb as he works to straighten himself. He knows she poses no threat and yet his shoulders remain tense. Ever since he had awoken she had always been a kind face. He had become accustomed to her calloused hands looking for his pulse along with applying salve and fresh bandages to his wounds.

“Cold.” Naya points with a single crooked finger in his direction. The language barrier was evident between them, but at some point he had come to guess that Dedue had taught her a few words to broaden the communication between her and Dimitri. “You must warm.”

Breath evening out, Dimitri takes a few more moments to watch her before his body trembles again with a new wave of pain and cold. Yes, he was freezing, but it was welcomed over the stuffy air that threatened to suffocate him when he was alone in the cabin. So he stammers an, “I’m alright,” before slowly bending down to retrieve the blanket.

“Rest.” She points at him again before hobbling over to help him. Naya was in her seventy-eighth year from what Dedue had told him, but it was evident she had never lost whatever fire she had obtained in her youth.

“I told you I’m fine.” His voice is soft as they both reach the blanket at the same time. An end was in each of their hands as they both rose back up with grunts of their own.

“Face pale.” Her tone turns stubborn as she makes to pull the fabric free from his grasp. It would’ve even been a bit comical with how she tries to throw it back up onto his shoulders despite the large difference in height had he not felt the weight of guilt pressing down on his chest.

Instead, he grabs the corners and pulls the blanket further around himself. He casts a look over his shoulder for a few seconds before turning back to her with a resigned sigh. It’s only then does he give a nod before he carefully begins to make his way back inside. A triumphant smile splits her face causing the wrinkles around her eyes to bunch up in their own presentation of delight. As he walks by her she laces her arm with his as if to help him get back up the single step that stood in his path to the door. Yet it feels like he’s balancing her just as much when her foot slips just slightly on the ice, but she only continues to smile as if it was nothing before bringing them both inside.

Even when they enter the small two roomed home she continues to guide him towards the only bedroom it holds. She makes sure he’s laying down and tucked in like his father used to do when he fell ill as a child. It sparked a feeling of pain in his heart as he looked away from her and towards the window.

“Tea for you.” Her voice turns as soft as his stepmothers once was and he practically chokes on air.

Before he knows it she’s shuffled out of the room and into their small kitchen. He can hear the clattering of a kettle and cups as she prepares tea, and for awhile he tries to not let tears overtake him.

* * *

_Gronder Field had been a blood bath. The small remainder of loyal Kingdom soldiers that rallied behind their prince were already running low on supplies. Every second was a fight for their lives from their stealthy movements to keep Dimitri out of Cornelia’s hands and the quick march to Enbarr. But none of them could’ve anticipated this. They weren’t meant to intercept both Claude’s army along with Edelgard’s._

_Maybe they could’ve worked together, but all they proved to be was a hinderance to Dimitri getting to Edelgard. They would’ve only slowed him down and the time for explanations was over. Yet it had proved to be his downfall. It came down to his own faked retreat as he waited for the right moment to chase Edelgard down in the woods._

_Every breath in his lungs felt like fire as he pushed forth. In his off hand he willed the power of his crest to come through as he launched a short spear from his hands. Its land was true as it clipped the closest Imperial soldier between the shoulder and neck. They went down with a gurgle and, in his wild haste to run and retrieve the spear, almost tripped over the corpse. For a moment everything had slowed in his efforts to reclaim his balance. He teetered a bit too much on the balls of his feet before finally surging forward, but with much less vigor._

_The slow-down allowed enough time for some of his adrenaline to wear off and for his muscles to scream their protest. When was the last time he had properly rested them? Gave them the time and care to heal?_

_His body fights him now despite the guttural growl that resonants within him. He has to keep going. He can’t stop now or she’ll get away._

_But before he can get much further the world begins to tilt. The deep green of the surrounding trees and bushes begin to blur together like a smeared painting. Soon enough he feels himself unceremoniously slam into the hard dirt and the minimal amount of air he retained bursts out in a huff at the contact. An all too familiar headache begins to creep in causing him to squeeze his eye shut just long enough to try recomposing himself. To his frustration it doesn’t work._

_When his eye reopens he tries to force his hands to claw at the chalky dirt. It gets under his nails as he gains no traction, and instead turns to try pushing himself back onto his feet. The results are much the same as he all but collapses back onto the ground with Areadbhar several feet away. He presses his face into the ground to the point that he’s almost inhaling the thinning greenery beneath him._

_Everything seems to fall silent as his mind scrambles for a solution, and before he can come to any pain sears in his back. He feels a lance pierce the lower right of his back causing his vision to go white. Then there’s another too close to his spine and more joining in trying to make him a human, or rather monster, pin cushion. A scream rips itself from his chest and the desire to fight remains lost on him as his body feels as heavy as the boulders he’d be forced to carry as a child. He was dead weight and left to be picked off by Edelgard’s subordinates._

_Coward. How could she not face him herself? He could’ve dragged them both to the fiery pits of hell together. It’s what they both deserved. Neither of them could be considered human any longer, and the dead must have her._

_No, he can’t face his passed loved ones alone. He won’t do it! But he’s so tired now and soon enough the pain numbs into nothing more than the warmth that seeps through punctured skin on his back and death bringing a chill to his fingertips._

_“—et up!”_

_“F-Fa-ther…” His voice comes out barely a whisper. He wants to fight. To climb back to his feet and lash out at his assailants, but he can’t. Feeling seems to leave him and soon enough even the blood on his back feels as cold as ice._

_“—ur Highness!”_

_When had his father’s voice gotten so low? He does his best to listen before the pain returns. If his muscles had a voice of their own they’d be wailing at his back as his entire body convulses._

_“I will take His Highness out of here!” That voice again. It’s deep and panicked as it cuts through his haze. Since when had his father called him such a title?_

_“I will be right behind you!” Another voice, but this one more gravelly and yet just as familiar. Yet it gets easily lost on him as he feels his body getting jostled around._

_Whines escape Dimitri at the motion as he feels something go taught against his torso, and before he knows it he’s flying. There’s nothing more than pressure on his back and beneath his knees that he would’ve missed if he wasn’t focusing so hard on who was there._

_“You’re goi—to be ok—” That first voice. Its warmth tries to soothe his aching body, and he works to muster up enough energy to open his eyes. He manages for a fleeting moment to just barely peek at the man holding him, and in that single half a second of consciousness that he has left it’s filled with Dedue’s concerned face._

* * *

When Dimitri’s eye opens again he’s still laying in the single bed of the cabin. All seems to be quiet save for the sound of a crackling fire in the main room. The sounds of battle are far away no matter how loud they had been in his ears mere seconds ago. Instead, he’s surrounded by the warmth of his heavyset blanket and the dull wood that makes up the walls.

With a shaky breath, he begins to slowly guide himself into a proper sitting position. Hands run through his messy hair and fingers catch on some tangles. But nothing else registers over the quick pace of his heart. How does he know he is not dreaming now?

He swallows thickly as he starts to shove the blanket off and moves to stand. Slippers that Dedue had given him are slipped on and he holds onto the small bed frame as his body continues to tremble. Pressure sits heavily in his lower back and one of his splitting headaches pulses behind his eyes. It threatens to topple him back onto the bed, but with a faint shake of his head he takes his time making it to the door.

Stepping out into the main living area is a more welcoming sight than the dark interior of the single bedroom. Here the firelight illuminates the relatively small space in a gentle glow. It casts minor shadows across the furniture that makes up the loveseat and coffee table, and it continues to extend into the kitchen. The kitchen sits off in its own little corner beside the closet sized bathroom with nothing more than a single counter and a small make-shift stove to cook on. In there is where he spots Dedue.

In his hand is a sharp knife as he skillfully cuts up various vegetables that he seems to be dumping into some sort of pot on the stove. He suspects it may be broth with the intention of making a soup, but Dimitri was never good at cooking or identifying anything of the sort. So the train of thought drops instantly as he shuffles his way closer to the other man.

“You should be in bed.” Dedue’s voice carries well in the tiny cabin despite his attention still falling on his original task.

Dimitri says nothing as he stands just a bit back from Dedue’s left. His gaze focuses itself on his vassal’s hands as he starts slicing the carrots. Every callous and scar pops out easily on Dedue’s darkened skin. Many were gained from protecting the prince himself. How many more scars had Dedue gained in Enbarr?

The thought alone could make him sick to his stomach if he lingers on it too long, and thankfully before he does Dedue finally turns to face him.

“You know you have trouble standing.” Dedue’s tone is level, but from years of knowing the man he can hear the hints of softness within. “Do not over-exert yourself.”

When he receives no reply once again, Dedue lets out a sigh as he sets down his kitchen knife. He makes his way over to Dimitri before hovering his hand over the small of his back while the other gestures to their small sitting area.

“Come, Your Highness.”

“Don’t call me that.” Though Dimitri’s voice comes out weaker than normal it doesn’t lack bitterness. The title he had been born with makes his brow furrow and his jaw clench. His body threatens to fracture at the despair of such a reminder before he drags himself over towards their couch.

A light frown touches the edges of Dedue’s lips as he quietly follows behind as if he were the prince’s shadow. He holds himself at the ready in case Dimitri falters and reaches out to grab his elbow to help steady him as he sits.

As soon as Dimitri is sitting, his body feels like lead against the cushions. Just the simple act of walking for only a few minutes has worn him down. Those voices snicker quietly in his ear as he closes his eye to take in a deep breath. They had been more silent as of late, but they loved to return at his most vulnerable. Maybe Dedue had sensed that as he feels fingers brushing lightly over his brow. Hair is tucked behind his ear only for the unkempt strands to fall free again.

For Dedue it seemed to be as easy as breathing when it came to reading Dimitri. He always knew when nightmares took hold or the dead were being a bit too demanding for his overworked body. It made Dimitri feel more guilt pressing down on him. No matter what, Dedue was always doing his best for him. It twisted something angry and painful in him. Why was he still taking care of him so?

He was always using light touches, cooking him meals, tucking him in to rest, and making sure all of his injuries were healing. But what had Dimitri done for him? He left behind broken promises after the mess at Gronder and the end of Fódlan’s five year war. No longer would he hold the position of king as he was sure that seat of power was currently being filled with the country’s unification. That meant he could not bring Duscur the peace and reconstruction that he had promised. He had failed Dedue. Through his rage and rash actions he had all but taken the cards he had been dealt and folded them to end his game.

So why was Dedue still loyal? Why wasn’t he pressing harder for Dimitri to go claim his birthright?

The frustration continues to build as he feels the other man hovering. Blankets are being placed over him and eventually he feels warm ceramic being pressed into his hands. He cracks his eye open to watch Dedue and it only serves to further overwhelm him. Dedue is regarding him as if he were a terrified animal. Slow movements are made along their small home, and though most would not be able to see it he recognizes the worry that plagues his eyes.

It hurts more than any ghost screaming for the Emperor’s head. The pain of his sore body doesn’t even come close to comparing. Dedue’s look of hurt and his immense amount of patience and understanding pains him more than the heavy crown that was to be thrust upon his head from the mere age of thirteen.

“Dedue, sit. Now.” A pause. “Please.”

The only sound that resonates through the cabin is the wind bringing the snow to the earth as Dedue stares at him in surprise. At first he stands there seeming to shift his weight indecisively before making his way over to sit beside Dimitri. A few more seconds of awkward silence passes before the prince is taking a deep breath.

“Everyone has given up on me, and yet you’re still here.” His words are soft, broken. He keeps his attention on the tea that steams out from the mug. It must be chamomile. It always is just for him. “Why?”

“I’m not quite sure what you’re asking of me. I am your vassal and I swore to protect you.”

“And I swore to restore Duscur, but that’s turned into a promise I could not keep.” His voice rises up several octaves and he feels his hands begin to shake. Tears also begin to sting at the corner of his eye. “You brought me to a place that only will question your reasons for bringing me here. They do even more so because you treat yourself so below me when you are worth so much more than that!”

“Your Highness, I—“

“No, Dedue!” With a surge of energy, he rises from his seat. He tosses the cup onto the rug allowing the hot liquid and shards of ceramic to scatter across the wooden floor. Turning on him, there’s a fire in his gaze and finally a stream of tears begins running down his cheek. “You have done so much for me. Saving me so I could live another day. Making it so I never wanted for anything and that I was always comfortable. You could have left me there for dead that day and came to this village to start a new life. A better life.”

“Dimitri.” Dedue interjects quickly before the other can continue. He’s now on his own feet and it seems to startle Dimitri enough that his mouth only opens and closes.

They stare at each other for a few moments, and eventually the small river dripping down Dimitri’s face only turns into a flood. Dedue pulls him into his chest allowing Dimitri to cry and fall apart in his grasp. Even this was another act of kindness that Dedue provided for him, and feeling unworthy only made his chest ache more.

“It is alright.” Dedue tries to soothe as he begins rubbing slow circles on Dimitri’s back. He then tries to guide them back down onto the couch to sit only to have Dimitri practically laying on top of him. Yet it doesn’t faze him as his fingers move to brush through long hair. “I have no reason to let you die. You see it as an act of duty, and yes in a way it is. But you see—”

A long pause hangs in the air as Dimitri continues to sniffle in his arms. It isn’t until Dimitri finally peeks up from where he’s crying when Dedue starts speaking again.

“It is…inappropriate for me to have more personal feelings for our situation. But I care about you greatly.” Dimitri buries his head into Dedue’s chest again as he returns the strong embrace in his shame. “You have saved me and showed me kindness when no one else has. You made sure I lived when you could’ve let me die, but you didn’t. We are both still here and that is because we care about each other…as friends.”

“What about my promise?” If Dedue hadn’t been listening he would’ve missed the whisper against his shoulder, but he certainly felt the firm press of Dimitri’s hands against his back.

“I am still holding you to that promise.”

“But how am I to go back and be king? Without that kind of power I don’t know if—”

“Sometimes when planting seeds we have to get creative when we can’t meet their conditions to grow. The same could be said now. I do not know if they will reject you as king, but I do know that we can at least continue to try. We still can rebuild Duscur. Together.”

Time seems to stop then as Dimitri looks back up at Dedue. Tears still line his face and their arms remain around one another. The prince — no, former prince of Faerghus takes as steadying of a breath as he can. So much has changed in the past few months, and he knew it wasn’t about to stop now. There may also still be so many regrets weighing him down and ready to knock him over, but this is the clearest his head has felt in months. The need for revenge still sings in his blood, but his heart doesn’t feel as heavy anymore. So with a nod of his head, he brings them closer again to rest his chin on Dedue’s shoulder with his mouth at his ear and determination in his voice.

“Together. We will bring Duscur back. This time I will not fail you, my friend. I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks everyone for reading! It would mean a lot if you left a comment, but either way I'm super grateful! Find me on Twitter at @MintHearted to talk FE and possibly see more snippets of upcoming fics!


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